


no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Asexual Julie Molina, Asexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), F/M, Fluff, bi ace julie, finding your soulmate's missing stuff, idk how to tag this one, none of the people in this show are straight and you cant convince me otherwise, pan ace luke, rated teen for very light swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight/pseuds/TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight
Summary: They say that there's someone who makes up the rest of your soul. Luke's not sure who they are. But honestly, he just wishes his shit would stop going permanently missing.--A jukebox soulmate au that no one asked for. Largely canon-compliant.
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 189





	no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hi, it's me again. I've never written a soulmate au before but I love this particular concept esp for jukebox. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (also: the title?? pls you can't tell me that Work Song isn't perfect for them)

They say that there's someone who makes up the rest of your soul. That they're your perfect match and once you meet them, once you touch them, your wandering souls will be fused back together, whole and unbroken.

Luke's not sure who _they_ are. But honestly, he just wishes his shit would stop going permanently missing. You lose something and it's sucked through some kind of hole in space-time to be found by your soulmate. Luke would really like to have a conversation with whoever came up with this system cause it _sucks_.

Cause he's a forgetful guy. His brain is always going a million miles an hour, with at least three different trains of thought chugging away and sometimes the tracks cross and there's a collision and all the passengers have to bail out and it's just a mess, okay? Keeping track of his stuff tends to fall by the wayside a little bit.

It's how he lost his favourite beanie. And don't get him _started_ on the number of individual socks that have just poofed themselves out of existence. He always has to have a box of new guitar picks handy because as soon as it's not in his hand or clamped between his teeth, it's as if it never existed. He just hopes his soulmate appreciates them.

But it's a give and take. He'll reach into his pocket to find scrunchies, hair clips, endless bobby pins. Just generic stuff that tells him very little about who his soulmate is except that they probably have long hair. (Once, he found one long, dark hair curling around the folds of a scrunchie. He keeps it tucked between the pages of a notebook, stashed away on his bookshelf.)

(And yeah: _they_. He's spent a lot of time thinking about this. He's had crushes on all sorts of people and their gender never really made a difference, but his introspection also leads to a solid black ring resting on the middle finger of his right hand.)

One day, he opens his school bag to find a homework page that does not belong to him. He looks at it, front and back, scouring for a name, a hint, a clue, feeling a thing with feathers rise behind his ribs, reducing his lung capacity and making him draw in shallower breaths. But nothing. Just the slightly messy handwriting of someone who thinks faster than they can write. He sighs and stuffs it back in his bag, reluctantly retrieving his maths book. His frustrated sigh must have been audible because Reggie leans over from his own desk.

"Hey, you all right, man?' His eyebrows are drawn up together, lines of concern creasing his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Just soulmate stuff junking up my bag."

It's not always junk, though. A bracelet turns up on his bedside table. He starts wearing it every day. He refuses to take it off, even to sleep. Sheet music to an unfamiliar song is found wedged between his records. This particular item makes his heart beat faster, his chest tingling and warm. Because they're a musician too. It makes sense, of course. No way his soulmate could _not_ like music. It's basically Luke's entire soul (or half soul, he guesses). But the confirmation makes him feel both calmer and more anxious. He wants to meet this person.

His favourite item to ever turn up is a photo. A woman and a little kid sit in a field, turned towards each other, faces pointed away from the camera. But he can see their smiles. He sleeps with it next to his face on the pillow the night he finds it because he doesn't want to look away. In the morning, he tucks it into the back of his song-writing journal where he keeps the rest of his heart.

At 17, he and his best friends are on the precipice of being legends. As he pulls his guitar from the case, a long, striped scarf flutters to the ground, the kind someone might tie in their hair or loop around their wrist. He ties it around his bicep for good luck. It makes him feel like his soulmate is there, by his side, cheering him on.

They meet a girl - Rose - who looks so familiar. Something about her smile. But he just can't quite put a finger on it. All he knows is that her presence is reassuring. Safe. He doesn't know her but he feels a tug in his chest that says _family_. The same tug he feels when he looks at Alex and Reggie and Bobby. (He's changed his mind, his half of his shared soul is made up of these three dorks and the music they make _together_.)

And then he dies. As darkness closes in around him, he thinks _I'm sorry, boys_ and _I'll never get to meet them._

_\---_

_"_ Flynn!" Julie whines. "I can't find my homework anywhere!"

Flynn rolls her eyes. "Did you check your school bag?"

" _Yes_ ," Julie bites out, not actually mad at Flynn, just at the situation.

"Your desk?" A nod. "Your dad's car? Under your bed? Your locker?"

Julie has to stop her. She knows from experience that Flynn'll just keep going. "Yes, it's not anywhere."

Flynn shrugs nonchalantly, a smirk pulling the corner of her mouth. "Well, guess it's gone to your soulmate then."

Julie groans loudly in frustration. She pulls her beanie ( _their_ beanie) down over her eyes and slumps back against her locker, trying desperately to not look like she's pouting but definitely pouting. Flynn just gives her an unimpressed look.

Julie breathes out harshly through her nose and resigns herself to retrieving the schoolwork she _does_ have from her locker.

"Ugh, gross!" she exclaims, fishing a pair of boxers out from where they had appeared in the dark recesses of her locker.

Flynn's snort turns into a full belly laugh as Julie holds them away from her body, arm extended as if she were holding hazardous waste.

She chucks them back in and slams the door shut. "Come on, let's get to class."

Flynn follows, tripping over herself as she continues to laugh her way down the hall.

\---

Julie isn't sure who her soulmate is or whether she knows them already. Of course, it's pretty rare to meet them in high school, but a girl can dream. Unfortunately, it seems that her soulmate is terrible at doing laundry because she'll often find individual socks lying on her bedroom floor and undies crumpled in the corner of her bathroom. The beanie that turns up is quickly added into regular rotation and if it isn't on her head, it's tucked into her bedside table. The muscle tank threw an interesting spanner in the works as it set her mind to imagining the kind of person who might wear something like that. (She might, maybe become a person who wears something like that. Occasionally. When the desire strikes her.)

She's fairly certain that they're a musician. She's constantly finding half-written lyrics strewn around her room in the most atrocious handwriting seen outside of a doctor's office. The lyrics - those that are legible - are beautiful. Occasionally they'll be lyrics to a Trevor Wilson song, though, which is a bit weird but she assumes they must just be a big fan. She appreciates their good taste.

Another hint is the guitar picks. She finds them everywhere: in her sock draw, between the pages of her school books, next to her toothbrush. One memorable time, she found a pick snarled in her hair. And all of them, every last one, are covered in tooth marks. As if her soulmate has a habit of _chewing_ on their guitar picks. It's kinda gross. Even so, she collects them in a jar on her desk with the date she'd found them written on the back.

\---

The boys turn up and her life is turned right-side up. She tells them to stay out of her room. Constantly. _Boundaries_ , she reminds them. Alex and Reggie get it, they can respect her personal space. But, _Luke_. She knows he goes in there because he keeps leaving his stuff everywhere.

On this day she finds his flannel just draped across her bed, as if he's _trying_ to irritate her. She snatches it up and storms down to the studio.

"Luke!" she shouts as she enters the studio, ready to tear him a new one. "What have I told you about going in my roo-"

She stops short because all three boys are ripping the place apart, looking for something. When he turns around to face her, she sees tears wetting his face that he quickly tries to swipe away. Her heart leaps into her throat.

"Luke, what's wrong?" she tries to ask but is interrupted.

"You found it!" His voice is a little watery but exuberant.

"I -- what?" she shoots him a quizzical look.

"My flannel. Well - my dad's flannel, but -" he cuts himself off, scrubbing his fist over his eyes.

Julie scoffs a little, gently. "Yeah, dude. You left it in my room."

His eyebrows furrow in that way of his.

"No, I didn't."

"Uh, _yeah_. You did."

"I haven't been in your room."

"Well, clearly you have," she says, shaking the flannel a little and holding it out to him.

"Thanks," he says softly as he grabs it, still looking at it with a bewildered expression. But he shrugs it on and uses the sleeve to wipe away what remains of his tears.

When Julie looks over at Reggie and Alex, they're exchanging a meaningful look that Julie can't quite read. When they notice her gaze, they both glance away, once again fascinated with the chairs on the ceiling.

Huh.

\---

"Julie! Stop leaving your homework in my song-writing journal!"

"I didn't put it there!"

"Well who did, then?"

The patented Reggie and Alex LookTM makes an appearance.

\---

"Hey! I used to have a beanie like that!"

"Uhuh."

"I did! It was my favourite until I lost it."

Julie nods but doesn't look up from her homework.

\---

"Ew, gross, Luke! Why do guitarists chew on their picks?"

He shrugs a little sheepishly. "It just helps me think. Besides, if I put it down it just kind of … disappears into the void." He gestures vaguely at the aforementioned void.

"That's true," Reggie pipes up. "He's always got a back-up supply!"

Alex scoffs a little. "Yeah, but he's the only guitarist I know who chews on his picks."

"Well my soulmate chews on theirs," Julie puts in, "So Luke's not the only one."

She hears the implement in question clatter to the piano. When she looks at Luke his eyes are wide and a little sad. None of them had really talked about soulmates. She's not sure about the implications that being dead has on finding a soulmate. None of them had found theirs before they died.

Alex, however. He'd managed to literally run into his soulmate in ghost form, so who knows. She's not sure if there are any rules. Whether both parties have to be dead or if one can be alive.

(If she's honest with herself, she's spent a fair amount of time thinking about this. Thinking about _Luke_. She pushes the thought away when it pops up cause it's _not possible_ but it always creeps back in. But they can't even touch so it’s a moot point. That longed-for skin-to-skin contact that bridges the gap between souls remains elusive. The silly daydream of a love-struck girl.)

\---

"Julie," Flynn says worriedly as they sidle up to their lockers, "Where's your ring?"

"My rin-" she lifts her right hand to her face and studies her empty middle finger with distraught consternation. The space where delicate twists of black metal usually sit is bare. "My ring! I - I'm sure I put it on this morning."

"Yeah, I saw you wearing it," Flynn confirms, her eyebrows furrowing.

Julie can feel a tide rising in her throat, swelling up behind her eyes, each crash of the sea battering against her ribcage in a heartbeat tattoo.

A _poof_ to her right interrupts her rising panic. She looks at Luke, eyes wide and watering.

"Julie! I came to bri- What's wrong?" he cuts himself off when he notices her distress.

"My ring is gone!" Her voice is tight, as if trapped in her throat.

Flynn had cottoned on Luke's presence and had begun to move around to where he stands to prevent their peers from thinking Julie's well and truly gone off the deep end. (Julie thinks distantly how grateful she is for such a wonderful friend.)

Bafflingly, a bright smile splits Luke's face. "This ring?" And pinched between his pointer finger and thumb is Julie's ring.

Julie's entire body visibly relaxes and it's as if her spine contracts a couple inches, muscles no longer held taut by emotion, the tide pulls out.

"Where did you find that?" Her voice is practically a whisper now, adrenaline having sapped all energy.

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. "It was in my pick container for some reason."

Creases form on Julie's face but she gratefully receives the piece of jewellery. She slips it into its rightful place and when she looks up she realises Luke's eyes have gone wide. Her eyebrows pull up into a question.

"You -- no, sorry, nevermind." He shakes his head and takes a step back. Julie moves forward a step. Flynn glances around to make sure no one is watching.

"No, Luke, it's okay. What's wrong?"

He shakes his head again, eyebrows drawing together and the hint of a smile on his lips. Instead of answering, he reaches his right palm out to touch hers, letting their rings knock together.

"Oh," Julie breathes. She's not sure how she'd missed it before. Maybe just that it had blended in with all his other rings.

"Yeah," he says, bashful, "Oh."

Julie smiles at him and he smiles right back.

\---

The Orpheum happens. And the boys are clinging to the last shreds of themselves and she's crying out _Go, save yourselves_.

But _No music is worth making, Julie, if we're not making it with you._

And she hugs him. And she can _feel_ him. The places their skin meet spark with some cosmic electricity but there's no time to dwell on it because she has to save Alex and Reggie too.

It isn't until later, when Reggie exclaims, "Hey, what's that on your back?"

She twists around, glimpsing the shape of a hand darkening the skin of her lower back. Her head whips around to look at Luke and she notices. "Luke, your shoulder!"

One hand flies up to his left shoulder, tracing over the darkened patch where Julie's palm had first rested against his skin. Their eyes lock.

"You're-"

"We're-"

She's not sure who's making which language-adjacent sound.

Alex is looking back and forth between them, a grin pulling across his face while Reggie's mouth hangs open in realisation. But they stay quiet. The _see, told you so_ 's will be saved for later.

Julie starts moving, crossing the room towards Luke. Luke seems to shake out of a stupor, surging towards her as well. They meet in the middle, her arms once again wrapping around his neck in a replay of their earlier embrace. His hands find their spot on her back.

"It's you, it's really you - " she's babbling. She continues to babble. Luke moves a hand up to smooth back her hair and gently places his lips against her forehead, finally causing her tongue to cease. The touch is so painfully tender it feels like a branding iron against her skin. They stay there for a century or so, just rocking to an inaudible beat, clinging to one another.

Finally, Luke tucks his chin so that he can rest their foreheads together, breathing the same air.

"You're amazing, Julie Molina. I would die a thousand times to find you."

She nods, unable to form words cause, _yeah_ , so would she.

They pull back and her eyes slide over left arm, landing on the scarf tied there. "My scarf!" She tugs on it a little.

Luke chuckles, sliding his palm along her jaw. Realisation crosses his face. " _Oh_ , that _is_ my beanie."

His head whips up and around when loud guffaws break past stifling hands. Alex and Reggie have dissolved into borderline hysterics. He looks back at Julie whose eyes fill with shared mirth. A laugh bubbles up in his own chest, spilling over and out of his mouth.

And finally, surrounded by Alex and Reggie and _Julie,_ his soul is complete.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I live for comments so don't be shy :)
> 
> (Also: is the author projecting by making her characters ace? maybe so. but while you're here may I also say: ace willie. That's all.)


End file.
